


Word of the Day

by WakeupSoon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre wants to go back to his book, Courfeyrac should shut the fuck up, Enjolras wants to go home, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeupSoon/pseuds/WakeupSoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why we don’t let Courfeyrac near a dictionary.. a map’s bad enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> Yet again, based on real life.

“Do you know what’s a really fun word to say?” Starts Courfeyrac sat upside down in his armchair staring up at his two best friends.

Combeferre pauses in his reading. This is never a short conversation.

“Let me guess, ‘glorious’?” Its Enjolras who’s taken the bait.

“No, that was last week.”

“We know,” Combeferre interjects; nudging Courfeyrac’s head in an attempt to make him please sit up properly. He doesn’t mind it as much at home, but in public is a bit too much, “Trust us, we know.”

“’Splendid’?”

Courfeyrac’s face lights up at Enjolras’ answer as he quickly swings into an upright position. Its ever so slightly terrifying to the extent that Enjolras physically reels back, his face silently asking if this extreme reaction means he’s correct, and this ridiculous game can stop.

“No, but good choice! Splendid is a gloriously splendid word. Well done! I’ll add it to my list. Just a sec…” and then he’s honest to God digging in his bag for his notebook. He flips to a page titled simply ‘WORDS’ and writes it down at the bottom with a pen he swipes from Combeferre’s top pocket.

Enjolras knocks his head back against the back of his own armchair with a sigh. Combeferre closes his eyes and prays for patience. Neither of them notices Courfeyrac adding his other new word to the list. They’re all still for a few minutes: Enjolras studying the ceiling, Comebeferre breathing deeply and internally counting to ten, Courfeyrac restless with the other two sat in silence – he rests his weight on the nerves on the ball of his foot causing his entire leg to shake, and his body to vibrate slightly with it. A minute later he starts to tap Combeferre’s pen against his notebook. He wonders who will snap first: the chief, or the guide.

Its Enjolras who moves first. He stands up with such a sudden movement that the other two can’t help but look up and watch as he passes around the coffee table they’ve been sat at for nearly an hour now, lies down on the floor next to Courfeyrac’s armchair, and stares up at the ceiling from this new vantage point. Combeferre gives his oldest friend a questioning look, before giving up with the situation entirely and returning to the fantasy world inside his book. Sometimes the actions of bloodhound warlords are easier to understand than those of his best friends, and really doesn’t that just say it all.

Courferyac however is more than intrigued by this new development. He peers over the side of the chair to query the blonde on the floor with a, “Hey, E. What’s the view like from down there?”

Enjolras’ gaze moves from where it had been systematically analyzing the ceiling to look Courfeyrac straight in the eye. To the higher boys credit, he doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he smirks. “There’s a map on the ceiling.”

Courfeyrac beams.

Combeferre gives up pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping anyway, “What are you on?”

Enjolras answers by moving his head, trying to reposition himself in a way so that his head is as close to where Courfeyrac’s had been not 20 minutes earlier as possible before he answers, “Nothing, but Courf has been upside down for 40 minutes before he decided he had a new word for his list.”

“The answers on the ceiling,” Combeferre concludes, looking up from his upright position to aid Enjolras however slightly he can, ignoring the bouncing Courfeyrac in the corner, “Look for the most ridiculous building name you can find.”

“Hey! I resent tha-“

“You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, but still…” Courfeyrac actually has the gall to pout.

Enjolras sits up suddenly, pointing at Courfeyrac and glaring, “No. How can that be your word of the week? You can’t even use it in a sentence!”

Courfeyrac’s face clearly says ‘just watch me’ at the challenge, and Combeferre raises an eyebrow in askance, “Do I even want to know?”

Enjolras points straight up at the ceiling from where he’s stood, looking down at the floor, before leveling a look at the both of them and just leaving. He doesn’t say ‘goodbye’, just “You deal with him, I need to lie down. I’ll see you both at home.”

Looking up at the ceiling finally, Combeferre sighs at the name he reads, knowing straight away that of course Courfeyrac would pick this one. Written in clear italics on a map of New York City directly above where Enjolras was just stood, and his other best friend has been staring for a solid amount of time now, is simply  _The Guggenheim_.

He goes back to his book.

Courfeyrac is still grinning. 


End file.
